Olivia Westview
The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and James’s even breathing beneath me.
He was dead asleep, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. I hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, too afraid that shifting even slightly might wake him and break whatever fragile peace had settled over us.
His arm was curled under my neck, a pillow of muscle and warmth, and I hugged him tightly, one leg hooked over his as if anchoring myself to him. The sheet had slipped to his waist, leaving his upper body bare, and I couldn’t stop staring at the broad expanse of his chest, the faint sheen of sweat that clung to his skin, the mess of hair that fell across his forehead. He looked so… serene like this. Vulnerable, even.
God, I had missed him.
It hit me wit
